Based on Psalms 104:24:
מָה-רַבּוּ מַעֲשֶׂיךָ, יְהוָה
Mah rabu ma'asecha yah: How manifold are your works, God...
and found, among other places, in the morning liturgy
It is all breath -
Outward,
In gathering,
Almost unheard,
And yet
It is the only sound
The only one
That matters,
That slips out
And is gathered
In greatness,
Created from
The stuff
Of stars and rain
And dust,
And mingles
In invisible wonder
With the stuff of stars
And rain and dust
That gathered in
And slipped out
So quietly,
Almost unheard,
Almost unsaid.
And the sound of that
Almost whispered
Barely there sound
Was a note of
Sweet grace
that gathered in
The stuff of matter
And stars
And light
And the name of God
For Shira, who opened the door
I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. I n the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy. If nothing else, I've learned to make a mean cup of coffee.
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